Filed under Emotion

I will always love you, Whitney



Turns out I’m not the only one with a fascination with Whitney Houston. Well, clearly. Kevin Macdonald’s new film ‘Whitney’ is showing and it didn’t take a new film about her being made to make me think of her. I have Whitney in most of my Youtube playlists. When I’m out with the girls if we hear ‘I wanna dance with somebody’ we give each other a knowing look, toss our drinks to the side and clamber for the dancefloor. It’s such a club banger, guaranteed to lift any mood. Hell, when I was at uni and the neighbours were annoying me with bad tunes, I said to my roommate ‘I’m gonna bust out some Whitney to sort this.’  If in doubt – always Whitney.

When I watch her music videos and her interviews I still get emotional. In the Diane Sawyer interview, where she famously claimed ‘crack is whack’ she seemed defiant but also with a clear sign of the demons – I would venture she was on something before that interview. She even said ‘the devil is in me’ in response to questions about addiction. What makes all of her issues seem even more layered are the sensational claims that she was abused by her cousin; Dee Dee Warwick. To be honest when I heard this, I thought it all made perfect sense. I am no psychologist, but the evidence suggests that a lot of the time, those who are abused  tend to self medicate. Well, who wouldn’t? I am guessing all you want to do is dull out those horrible memories and the ghastly feelings they stir up. And to make matters worse? It was a member of her own family for F sake.

It still irks me a little bit that I discovered of her passing in an ex boyfriend’s tweet. My brother, living in America at the time, had texted me to say I was in for a ‘big shock.’ He had sent it whilst I was asleep (time difference) and I had got up to pee. I went on the internet and typed in ‘news’ but weirdly that didn’t come up. And whilst scrolling twitter saw the tweet. I was gutted. Honestly heartbroken. I had grown up with Whitney. I watched The Bodyguard with my friends at my first ‘big girl party’ and fell in love… with both of them. Any critic who didn’t enjoy the film, clearly didn’t understand it. I saw a ridiculous review that said they didn’t ‘see these two together, and they were working hard to seem like a pair’ to me that just says this person was trying to hide their thinly veiled racism about an interracial couple (this was a big deal at the time, 1992 unbelievably.)  The chemistry between Houston and Costner sizzles – and the movie went on to make over $400 million at the box office, with the soundtrack becoming the best selling soundtrack of all time, selling more than 45 million copies worldwide.Make of that what you will.

Six years later after she’s gone, I still can’t seem to get enough of her songs, her beautiful face, and that bejewelled voice. I honestly think she has the best voice I have ever heard. Her control and range is insane. Truly. Try and listen to anyone else attempt her songs. None of these X factor wannabes  who copy her every year, come anywhere close to her talent. She is so gorgeous as well. Her stunning light cocoa skin, dark doe eyes and broad smile. She is one of the few stars that has that je nais se quois– where you can’t take your eyes off her – you want to know what she is going to do next, such is her magnetism.

Someone like Taylor Swift, I find dull as dishwater.  I couldn’t get obsessed with her because she is so boring (to me anyway – not trying to hate, opinions and all that.)  But I would say I am definitely obsessed with Whitney Houston in some way. I can’t scroll any of her songs even though I have heard them a thousand times. I can’t not watch her music videos, just because I have to drink in her talent and beauty.  In fact, as I write this, I’m listening to a Whitney playlist on Youtube.

It’s interesting that she didn’t have much confidence when filming The Bodyguard. I guess her expertise was the music and not necessarily acting, but still, I would have imagined her to feel untouchable when it came to something else in the entertainment field. Kevin Costner, a brilliant actor and a person who is extremely reticent, actually spoke at her funeral. He said she doubted herself; wondered if people would like her performance. He said ‘they didn’t like you Whitney, they loved you.’ She also admitted in her interview with Oprah, that ‘every day I wanted to quit. I didn’t think I could do it.’ This surprises me in some ways, in other ways it makes sense because of everything else going on. When watching he Oprah interview, my first thought was how fragile she was ; her raspy voice, her thin frame; still beautiful of course.

I know we can’t play this game, but I always wonder where these people’s loved ones/ friends/ people who give a shit were when things like this happen? There’s footage of Whitney, clearly intoxicated, barging into an interview with her manager Clive Davis and Brandy, swaying and kissing everyone, even passing a note to a very confused Brandy, in the 24 hrs before she passed away. I even saw an interview with one of her entourage who admittedly mumbled  ‘we weren’t supposed to let her have baths because of this reason.’ Well then, what the hell. Back in uni, I got very drunk, and ended up being sick on myself (it’s actually a hilarious story I promise) anyway – I decided I wanted a shower so I went in the bathroom , locked the door and started running a shower but the pressure was crap, and even as off my tits as I was, I wanted a proper rinse so I ran a bath. My friend was downstairs getting a snack. It was about 3am in the morning. The next thing I know. My friend has burst the door open and I wake up – having just fallen asleep in the bath. She was really angry. ‘What the hell are you doing? You could drown.’ She dragged me naked out of the bath and put me to bed. I probably would have drowned in all honesty. But someone was looking out for me. And that was just tequilas. Everyone around Whitney, they knew she was on coke. They knew she was struggling, vulnerable, emotionally ravaged. Instead of leeching off her, it would have been nice if someone could have actually cared about the person, not just living in the orbit of the ‘star.’   I Just find it really irresponsible/ careless and it really bothers me.

I also hadn’t realised she had had a few miscarriages, one famously whilst shooting The Bodyguard. How sad for her. It’s even more tragic that her daughter Bobbi Kristina followed the same suit.

I haven’t seen the film yet, but I plan to. Any excuse to hear that voice and absorb the magic, that only Whitney Houston has. I use the present tense, because her music goes on, in more ways than one <3

‘Whitney’ is showing at selected cinemas now.

‘The Bodyguard’ is showing on Amazon Prime.

Interviews with Diane Sawyer and Oprah, on Youtube.







Anxiety. It’s a little bitch right? I definitely think it’s something our generation (millennials) massively suffers from. My gran advises me that in her youth, it was a simpler time. Obviously there was no such thing as social media and all the crap that that brings – I’ll be writing a post on this later –but I think she’s right, the whole mental frame was different. Although my grandmother was a young woman in the 40s, she didn’t seem to suffer from repression. Of course, she was lucky. And she was smart. She studied economics and catering, back then. Her education (a rare thing at the time) meant she could walk into work, literally. You would go to an establishment, request to talk to the boss, and in her case, get the job. None of the BS we have to go through when applying to a job. These days, it’s a 15 page dossier, with essay on yourself, suggestions for how their company can improve (market research?) and several  references. Definitely a different time. It’s demoralising having to spend several days on an application only to get a big fat NOTHING in reply. There is no etiquette. It is now generally accepted that if you didn’t get the job, you are not worthy to be advised of that. You feel that you are wasting your time. I suppose in a time of letters and phonecalls you couldn’t really avoid it, but with e-mails, it’s a way of letting employers off the hook.

I suppose in my grandmother’s generation, it wasn’t expected that you be a career woman. The plan was usually to find a man, have some babies and settle down. My grandmother, a stunning brunette from the Isle of Man, did just that. As it turned out, she picked my grandfather;  A handsome officer in the RAF. To say my grandmother was (and still is) a gorgeous woman is not me being biased. Black and white pictures of her in a 50s swimsuit on the beach with perfectly coiffed hair make her look like a movie star. There was no such thing as internet dating (something I have had my fair share of but had no luck with personally and thank god it’s behind me – see my post  No. She said, ‘you got a pretty dress on, you went to a dance, you met a man and you married that man.’  That’s just one angle of it. I’m lucky, being settled down is something that has never given me anxiety (I think I’m a bit of a commitment-phobe actually  - blame the parents and their horrible marriage.) My anxiety, personally stems from not being fulfilled career wise, ‘life wise.’

I have these moments in bed, the ones we all get as humans, where we realise that one day we will be bones in the ground and our existence will have ceased, and you get hot all over and your heart thumps in your chest and you realise there is not a single thing you can do about it – one day you will be dead. (You have had this too, right?) Sometimes I don’t know how we as humans just go about our business when at the end of it all, we won’t be here. It’s kinda demotivating. It’s a terrifying notion, mostly because we are designed to survive, to continue; humans cannot comprehend their own end. I have this debate with my boyfriend frequently. IF we are designed to die one day (which we are) then why are we not okay with it? Why is there not a genome switched on, that makes you not care about that. Something that means that you just accept it. Because we do not accept it.  Even people of faith, when it comes down to it, do not want to go. Do not want to welcome death. I know a very religious person who had a heart attack. As they lay on the floor, they did not think, ‘Okay god I’m ready, take me, let’s go, let’s do this shiz,’ no, they thought, ‘I’m petrified, I don’t want to die.’ When I was younger, it was the idea of it that really bothered me – not existing any more (also, going mouldy, not to be gross but this is something else that freaks me out but I digress) These days, it’s more about what death represents. I don’t feel like I have amounted to much. I have let myself down. This is how I feel. And I hate to let myself down. Other people on the outside, can’t see it. ‘But you have lived in New York, LA, you have a degree, you have travelled.’ Yes, all great stuff, that I am grateful for. But I am not where I want to be. And it bothers me. It gives me anxiety.

And I feel guilty. With all the technology that we have these days, why haven’t I made it? Why am I not more successful?

If Amelia Earheart can fly a plane in the 20s, why the fuck can’t I find a job I like? What am I doing wrong?

amelia earheart

The fear is that I have to pay the bills so I get panicked, accept some shite and invariably spend the whole time feeling miserable. I do not know how to break the cycle though. And it’s obvious to employers that this is what I’m doing and clearly that’s not attractive. But I have to work, I have to earn. If anyone has any ideas I would love to hear them.

I suspect other people feel like this. These days, we are told we can have everything. And then if we don’t have everything, we feel a bit useless. Because we have ‘so many opportunities’ we are meant to be thriving everywhere – financially, on social media, romantically, career wise. Damnit if you haven’t got stocks and bonds and 3 houses and glorious holidays and an ambition to be an astronaut in your spare time.

There are other things plaguing our generation too.

My parents’ generation got grants to study at Uni. Something my auntie once told me gleefully that she ‘spent it all on drugs and never had to pay a penny back.’ Our generation had to get student loans. And that debt hangs over me to this day, more than 10 years after graduation.

It’s harder for us to get on the property ladder. The largest proportion of aged 30-40 year olds ever are still living with their parents because they can’t afford not to. I’m lucky, I live with my boyfriend, but if I didn’t – I would have to live with family – something a lot of people in that situation find depressing.

Having a degree these days are ten a penny and don’t seem to be as valuable as ‘experience.’ And how the hell do you get experience if no-one gives you that chance? You are expected to intern for free, which is fine if you can AFFORD that. If you haven’t got someone supporting you, that can be nigh on impossible. But even when when applying to unpaid internships; because it’s a way of getting in to more desirable companies, it remains extremely competitive, and difficult to penetrate.

We have lived through a recession. I couldn’t get a job at this time and it was fucking miserable. I remember a headline at the Guardian ‘I went to Cambridge and the only job I can get is a cleaner.’ It was a damn stressful time, and one in which our generation particularly suffered.

So it’s no bloody wonder this anxiety we have! So, what to do to combat it?

I tried medication, which I found to be helpful, but it made me fat. This then made me anxious. Oh the irony. So I came off those. They don’t actually ‘solve’ anything. But if you are getting so anxious you can’t see straight, it helps to level you.


I tried Yoga. But the bit where the teacher says ‘okay now everyone relax, switch off your thoughts and breathe’ DOES NOT work for me. For those who can make mediation work for you; Namaste.

All the quiet did was make my brain go into overdrive. I’m very thinky anyway, so I find it difficult to switch off. If I did manage a moment of mental peace, I was then hyper aware of everyone loudly breathing/snoring/farting and I found this annoying.


Exercise is one thing that I do find really helps. Not the pretzel, slow kind as above but actually building a sweat kind. Circuits is bloody hard, but it’s such work that you kinda forget about everything and start to see stars. My personal favourite is swimming. Although the washing the hair bit is an arse, the actual exercise works your whole body, can be done faster or slower, and I find it very enjoyable. I also do lots of thinking when I swim – but it’s more processing – I internally break down the day and the things troubling my mind and try to tackle them. Or I just think about the lastest Netflix show I’m loving and wondering what that twist means. It’s healthy thinking. Afterwards, I always feel super productive and good about myself.

I find writing really helpful. You don’t have to be Bronte to find that writing is a great release. For me, it’s therapeutic, but if you are more methodical, make lists and jot things down.  I really think I should start a dream journal too, because I have vivid, crazy, creative dreams every night, and some would make epic films. My online published story was conceived entirely from a dream I had

So, in conclusion, I’m always sort of battling the anxiety dragon. But I think we have good reason. It’s just trying to manage it. And trying to break the bad  job cycle (which I think perpetuates a lot of anxiety)


What do you do to combat anxiety? I would love to hear your suggestions.


There’s No Crying In Baseball

cry face


I have started to think I am an emotional wreck.

Films which I have seen multiple times which made me cry the first time, make me cry all over again. EVERY single time.

Even those videos on facebook of someone overcoming something/someone being nice/just humanity at its best, and I’m a blubbering mess. Works both ways though – if I see a story about a child or animal being bullied then I start crying too.

My boyfriend is used to it now.  I would start crying and he would be like ‘oh, what’s wrong’ *hugs* etc. Now he hears/sees me sniffling and he rubs my back patiently while he carries on reading his book/playing xbox/killing the bad guys.

Surely when it comes to film though, this is just a testament to how good that particular director is? How the whole ensemble (composer, writer, director etc) just know how to kick your ass emotionally? OR should I have got over it by now?

Films make me cry for all sorts of reasons. But I think it keys into something deeper. Maybe that’s why I am able to cry on stage? My emotions are all bubbling below the skin. I once watched an interview with the fantastic Sally Field who I think is just wonderful. The interviewer said to her ‘I’ve read that you can famously cry on command, anywhere, any how. Is that true?’ Sally proceeded to reply and started to cry. Like, properly cry. It was incredible to watch. She confessed: ‘it’s always there just below the surface, ready for me to access it.’ She hinted that she hadn’t had the best time growing up. Maybe that’s it – my unhappy childhood. Sally is a masterclass in acting – I recommend you watch her in, well, anything.

I cry when people I have never met who have had an impact on my life, die. I don’t understand people who are so cold as to say ‘I didn’t know him, who cares if he’s dead?’ You may not have known him, but he was a PERSON, with feelings, thoughts, family, loved ones. I don’t ascribe to the notion that if you didn’t know them, they are irrelevant. I find that totally dispassionate. When Robin Williams died, I sobbed. And I know I wasn’t the only one. I remember seeing a rapper on TV saying he was heartbroken about it. It was heartbreaking, it was fucking shocking. I couldn’t believe it. I was gobsmacked and horrified and so sad that he had ended it himself too. It made me wonder if I had known him, could I have stopped it? Yes, seriously, that thought crossed my mind. I thought he had been failed by the people who knew him. It was too tragic. He was a fantastic actor, in some truly poignant films.

I suppose that is something to make note of: that film and TV has always been an escape for myself and my siblings. When everything was shit at home, we could always escape into a film. When I was hating school, I would always think ‘just 6 hours until I can watch ER. It will be okay.’

There is something therapeutic about crying at films or TV or theatre.  It’s guilt free crying. It’s a sort of camaraderie for the character or situation. A lot of times when I feel like crap, I will put a film on that I know will make me blub just for a good release.  I know imdb releases a ‘films that make you cry’ list and I’m going to add my own.

So, here are some films that make me cry and the psychology behind it (for me). Don’t worry it’s not a complete list – we would be here all night!


Forrest Gump


Think you would have to have a heart of stone not to feel something with this one. (Although I know people who didn’t like it – philistines!)  I remember watching this for the first time when I was about 13 years old and having to hold back the huge heaving tears that were spilling out of my eyes.  From losing his best friend to when his mum (spoiler alert) dies. Played by Sally Field again and she’s just fantastic in this film. It is not only the fact that she is dying. It’s the fact that she’s so lovely and that they are talking about what destiny is – what the point of life is essentially. I think we can all relate to that. The final punch to the chest is when he has finally got with the love of his life Jenny and then she dies and he is sobbing at her graveside. Kid you not I’m tearing up just thinking about it. Tom Hanks as well is of course exquisite. Can’t forget the gorgeous score by Alan Silvestri, which is just caramel for the ears. Breaks my heart every time I hear it.


The Theory of Everythingtheory-of-everything-2

This one is especially pertinent with Stephen Hawking recently dying – something else that made me cry. No, I didn’t know him but what he contributed to our planet and universe is immeasurable and I’m just glad I could co-exist in the same time space as him. This film is basically a beautiful portrait of his beginnings and obviously what happens to him. The music as well just melts my heart. The score is by Jóhann Gunnar Jóhannsson who tragically died recently too.


Good Will Hunting good_will_hed


The scene where Robin Williams says ‘it’s not your fault.’   Oh my heart. My brother always says this to me, half as our own in-joke and half when I’m feeling like crap because he knows it gets to me!

What a beautiful film, with Oscar worthy performances and again a beautiful score by Danny Elfman. The kind of music which is raw, rustic, golden. Almost music heard through a filter of the past if such a thing existed. Either way, the ability to tap into my emotions.

The story of a kid who has been in the social system and basically had it crap but has great friends and a wonderful therapist. Oh yeh, and he’s a genius. It helps that Boston is sort of a character in the film. I love me some Boston. Great city.


A league Of Their Own tom hanks and geena davis (2)


No, not the crummy tv series with James Corden, but the wonderful baseball movie starring Geena Davis and Tom hanks. I know, baseball!? I have no idea about it either, but it’s not really about that. It’s about friendship and struggle and sibling rivalry and competition and sisterhood and being a part of something. Dear lord I love it. Again, it is complimented by the enriching score by Hans Zimmer. That’s right, old Hans can do big epic futuristic (ala Inception) and also home grown sweet chick flick movie. The bit that makes me cry (amongst others) is when Geena Davis is leaving the league (oh god no) and she says to Hanks, ‘it just got too hard.’ And Hanks replies:

‘It’s supposed to be hard, if it wasn’t hard everyone would do it. The hard, is what makes it great.’ It gets to me because I struggle with not being creatively satisfied, that it’s just so damn hard to get anywhere, that maybe I should quit. And then I hear that quote and it gets me. He’s right. Subtext: perseverance. Love this film.


There are a ton more; Shawshank, Field of Dreams, Legends of the fall (gulp) and I could go on and on but the moral is that films are great ok? They can be a saviour. This is why people get so fanatical about them. Tonight, in honour of Hawking, I’ll be watching TTOE again. And I’ll be crying, again. And I’m not ashamed of it <3







What if I hadn’t gone to that wedding, and humoured the best man, who I found repulsive and stepped on my toes. He had been ‘recovering from something’ and I had to dance with him, being the maid of honour.  I kept my face away from him, and dropped his hands like a stone once the song was over. He found solace in the sister in law and I was saved from his advances. Sometimes when you find someone so unappealing it’s like a foul odour you want to waft away. All at once we can find people either repellent or intoxicating.


What If when I got back home from that trip, I hadn’t contracted swine flu; the flu that meant I was unable to keep anything down, or move my limbs much, or keep my eyes open, or do anything but sleep in a weak and delirious stupor.

What if I hadn’t been shivering to the point where I felt like my body was made of ice and all the heat in the world wouldn’t thaw me out.

As a consequence I crawled with my blanket to be by the fire to warm my chilled flesh on the hot coals emitting a soothing heat, pinching the duvet under my chin to comfort myself, switching the television on in that moment, to pass the time.

I could have crawled back to bed, but I didn’t. I could have laid down but I didn’t. I could have continued to watch the flames lick the logs but instead I chose to watch that particular channel. And at that very moment, that show flickered across the monitor.

Within the first 30 seconds, you appeared.

What if I had never  laid eyes on you?

You filling up my screen with your presence, being so witty and attractive. Me being utterly mesmerized and not being able to take my eyes off you.  I wanted you the moment I saw you. Without for a second contemplating that it would or could ever happen. But I did meet you. And I did touch your face and I did witness your stormy eyes firsthand.

The sound of you messaging, like cocaine for the soul. Any mention of you. Seeing your name emblazoned on my phone screen.

Maybe if I  was stronger I could handle the pain. The kind of pain that feels like splinters in your stomach, waking you up with a kick in the early morning hours. Once again  the realization that you are not next to me.

What if I could stop sobbing over the thing that I never had in the first place? Because I never had you. The deep throaty sobs that catch in my windpipe and leave me exhausted, my eyes burning.

What would be different?

Would I have had another heartache? Would there be nobody crushing my paper heart in their palm?

Would there be someone else enveloping me in their arms and telling me it’s going to be okay? Or would I have been alone, none the wiser, sitting by the fire and watching something else entirely.

I wonder; what if I hadn’t fallen for you?


I feel crushed.

All Tied Up


How do you unfurl somebody?


Somebody that you care for so much, yet they don’t allow themselves to care that much for you.

Somebody tied so tight in a knot. And then you come along, tugging at that knot, threatening to undo it.

They might even secretly feel good about it. It might spark some long dormant emotions. It might awaken a fire long thought of as extinguished. A desire not sated but quietened.

But you don’t want that. Your knot is so tight it makes you numb, but it’s all you’ve ever known. You take comfort in that knot.

If only you would loosen your grip of the situation. To embrace the warmth and light:


But you won’t ever do that..

Am I strangling myself with the loose tethers you allow me?  Probably.

Every now and then I give some slack and I feel you slipping away. That’s when something brings us back together. We never truly let go. But you hold onto the peripheral of me. Not the whole of me.

I  just want to embrace the part of you that you conceal from me. Not these frayed ends that you reluctantly allow me to perceive.

But you have anchored yourself to a rotten post. One you’ve been attached to for a long time. One that once bore you fruit but now you are mounted to this wizened tree stump, striking you with its dagger-ous limbs. Every lance to the face only serving to convince you that you earned it. You enjoy the punishment. You think you deserve it.

My palm is constantly open to you. My finger tips stretching towards you, reaching desperately for you in the darkness. Hoping you’ll receive me, but you never do.

Maybe I should close my hand.

You are sinking, you and your post. Not voraciously; you won’t be gorged by a rapid quicksand. Yours is a slow and insidious journey. The steady envelopment of your soul until one day you realise you can’t breathe.

One day your hand may finally reach out to mine, when you are just about to suffocate.

But the question is, will I still be there to take it?





I’ve been grumpy lately.


The emotion propelling this is frustration.

I am frustrated about a number of things. Relationships, money, creative satisfaction and so forth. The usual I suppose; we are all in the same boat.


Well, some of us are, some of us are on Yachts, so they won’t know what I’m on about..


If you look up the definition of Frustration in the dictionary, the result is this:


The feeling of being upset or annoyed as a result of being unable to change, or achieve something.


This is bang on the money. On both counts.

There are things I can’t change, things that occupy my already noisy mind. Things I lie awake at night, obsessing over.


Then there are the things I want to achieve that I haven’t yet.


Mostly I get frustrated with myself.

Wanting to be better, more successful, more proactive, make better decisions,  etc – the list goes on.

I’m frustrated that I’m not where I think I should be at this time.


Of course to quote Megan in Bridesmaids:

 ‘You’re your problem Annie, but you are also your solution’  

A bloody amazing movie, that rang true for me on so many levels. She’s creative but had failures, her love life sucks, and she drives a trusty shitbox. The only thing is her wardrobe is so much more glorious than mine. Really, they should have asked me before using my life story, but, whatever!


There is hope and clarity in Megan’s  statement. It’s true. I just need to fix things for myself. It may appear to those who don’t know better, that I’m impatient. But I feel like these things are a long time coming.


I’ve always worked hard, in any job I’ve taken on. No matter how big or small, I’ve always given it 100%. When I cleaned tables at a Debenhams cafe one summer, (after graduating with a very good degree I might add) my colleague, a slovenly boy, would sit out the back and read his books, shirking his role, whilst smoothing his gelled hair off his face. I would keep busy, wiping the marble tables and scooping the crumbs into my cloth. The manager came by one day and said he’d never seen anyone as hard working as me. I privately beamed.


Little did he know, that for me, this was a piece of cake. I’ve never been shy of hard work – having been employed by my parents to work their farm from a young age.


When I worked a bar, whilst studying for my Masters, I routinely took the most sales, and made the most tips. I worked 14 hour shifts and served in a sweaty bar, 6 deep, surrounded by clouds of thick smoke (pre ban). It wasn’t pleasant, but I did it, and I did it with gusto.


The point is, I’m a hard worker. I’m not precious. I’m not averse to work and starting at the bottom if I have to. It’s getting the right opportunity that seems to be the kicker.


I sent an email to the head of CBBC once. I asked if I could make his tea and get some experience. He was very nice. He asked me what I really wanted to do? As people who do this ‘just make really bad tea’ – he had a sense of humour. I said anything creative to do with production – writing ideally, or presenting – just being involved in the creative process. He asked me to send him a video, which was just wonderful. I felt hopeful.  I did – and he liked it. But he ended up leaving the position shortly after and nothing came of it. I guess it was a long shot. But it was disappointing no less.


After my amazing summer studying at the inspiring American Academy of dramatic Arts, I was invited onto their prestigious two year program in New York. I never wanted anything more. I gained a $10,000 scholarship but needed a further $20,000 for fees, and about 10 grand more in the bank. I wrote to every funding body there was.

The amount I collectively raised?


We were in a recession and everyone was keeping their purse strings closed tight under their chins.

So I had to turn down the opportunity.  To say I was gutted would be an understatement. I felt like I’d been dumped.

I’m not trying to make anyone feel sorry for me. I’m trying to explain where my head is at.

I need to be sated on a creative level, and that’s not happening. Certainly not being sated on an emotional level. And that’s too complicated for even me to wrap my head around. There are things at play that we cannot control, however much we want to. Maybe I need to accept some things, maybe that’s the problem.

For the most part though, I will pursue in the face of adversity.

So yes, forgive me if I’m grumpy,  I’m frustrated.  Extend some compassion, because I will always do the same.

I’m still working things out.  For those of you on the yachts, I’m hanging onto the lifeboat, and it’s bumpy back here.


In the meantime, I do have a few irons in the fire.


Let’s hope they ignite.